


37

by PineTrain



Series: Untitled Stories [37]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Angst, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-11
Updated: 2018-03-11
Packaged: 2019-03-30 00:54:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13939110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PineTrain/pseuds/PineTrain





	37

Monday. *tk*

Two pills rattle on the table.

Tuesday. *tk*

Two pills rattle on the table.

Wednesday. *tk*

Two pills rattle on the table.

Thursday. *tk*

Two pills rattle on the table.

Friday. *tk*

Eight pills rattle on the table.

Saturday. *tk*

Eight pills rattle on the table.

Mabel stares at Sunday on the pill counter, maxed out just like Friday and Saturday were. It’s not hard to guess that all three days were meant to be taken at once, especially since the color of the pills in all three is so distinct from the two in every other day. She just can’t wrap her head around what she’s found.

That was why she absentmindedly opened each day and dumped its contents on the table. Everything feels weirdly still, and her body had to act in some sort of way since her mind wasn’t doing it. She glances from Sunday to the pills that don’t match Friday and Saturday’s, hate brimming in her eyes.

“Damnit!” she says quietly. A rare curse slipping from her mouth before she swipes the pills from the table.

Mabel knows she shouldn’t have found this. She also knows the two pills he’s supposed to be taking every day Monday through Thursday should prevent him from taking the 24 he was planning on taking one day Friday to Sunday. It’s a deeply black feeling, because she doesn’t know where he is.

She’d called his cell phone as soon as she found the pill counter, trying to catch him before he went too far away without it. He didn’t answer, a frustrating fact that faded from her mind as she called again, her eyes catching the strange aspect of the final three boxes while the phone rang. There was no answer again.

Tears sting her eyes because she knows why she wasted time opening each day and dumping its contents instead of contacting anyone else. She wants to be optimistic, hopeful, positive in all the ways she’s always been. But she can’t, because she shouldn’t have found these pills.

Yet she did. It’s weird how immediate the realization of what that means hit her. It’s weird how easy it was for her to accept it. Weird how she instantly knew there’s no stopping this, even if it hasn’t happened yet. So weird she can’t do anything but stare at a prior plan of his while she dumped the pills out.

Mabel feels sick thinking about the scattered pills on the floor, at Sunday’s still in their bin. It was a cry for help, so obvious in the contrast of Thursday to Friday. She would’ve seen it, she would’ve known, but he didn’t even stay long enough to take Monday.

Mabel sniffles, trying to keep things together as confusion frizzes about her mind. It’s an odd feeling for her, pessimism, but deep down she knows its the correct one. Whatever his plan, he wouldn’t have left the pills if he wasn’t serious.

He’s gone, and there’s nothing she can do.


End file.
